Aza's POV
I think I'm the only bride in the world who's sad on her wedding day. But can you really blame me? I'm marrying someone I barely know, and it's all to save my family from sinking into poverty again. The weight of that responsibility hangs over me like a dark cloud, raining down guilt and regret.
I can't call off the wedding. I've seen the struggle etched on my parents' faces, the fatigue in their eyes as they work tirelessly yet still can't make ends meet. My mother's hands tremble as she counts coins for groceries, each coin a painful reminder of our financial woes. They've sacrificed so much for me—my mother worked two jobs, and my father took on odd tasks just to pay the bills. It's time I repay their kindness, even if it means sacrificing my own dreams.
As I was being taken to my husband's house, tears streamed down my cheeks. This was it—my childhood home was fading away, and I was stepping into the unknown, a future that felt like a prison.
"I'm gonna miss you, big sis!" Lily, my younger sister, cried as she hugged me tightly. Her slight frame shook with sobs, and I felt my heart clench tighter with each moment. I was doing this for her; she deserved to finish her education, to have a life free from the constraints of our financial hardships, even if I couldn't.
"It's okay, Monchi. I'm not going anywhere, am I? You can visit me anytime, okay?" I patted her back soothingly, trying to project confidence I didn't feel. As she nodded, sniffing into my shoulder, I couldn't shake the fear building inside me. I was leaving behind so much.
I can't believe I'm married now. I'm Azalea Graham, but people call me Aza. A 19-year-old girl bursting with dreams, yet here I am, feeling like a prisoner. It seems God has His plans. None of my dreams have come true because money has always been a barrier. This marriage feels like trading my freedom for stability—a bittersweet exchange that weighs heavily on my heart. If I can help my family have a meal without anxiety, it'll be worth it.
The Drive to My New Home
The drive was eerily silent, filled only with the hum of the engine and the distant sounds of the city fading away. Aidan, my new husband, sat next to me like a statue, his gaze focused on the view outside, completely ignoring my presence. I stole a glance at him. He wasn't bad at all; in fact, he was incredibly handsome—his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and dark hair framed a face that could grace the cover of any magazine. But his stony expression sent an unsettling chill through me. I spun away, my heart racing as the mansion came into view.
When we finally arrived, the driver opened the door for me, but Aidan didn't wait for me. He strode inside, his back turned to me as I hesitated at the threshold. This wasn't how I imagined my wedding day; I had always envisioned my husband would hold me close, whisper sweet words in my ear, and make me feel cherished. Instead, I felt more like a burden than a bride.
The mansion was vast and intimidating. Its towering walls loomed over me, and the lavish decor felt foreign and cold. I took a deep breath, willing myself to step inside, but the moment I crossed the threshold, Aidan dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
"Luggage goes to the guest room," he instructed, barely glancing my way. The driver complied, leaving me standing there feeling utterly out of place.
"Listen to me, little rat," Aidan said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "My father got me married to you to help your poverty-stricken family. You're in my house now, and I have rules you must follow." His tone was ice-cold, sending shivers down my spine.
"Don't ever think of sleeping in the same bed with me. I can't stand a commoner like you. You'll sleep on the floor in this same room. Got that?" The authority in his voice was suffocating. I nodded, fighting back tears. This was not the fairy tale I had dreamed of; it felt like a nightmare come to life.
I could see the imposing staircase that spiraled upward, and I imagined how alone I would feel in this mansion. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a grand portrait of Aidan—an idealized version of him that seemed to watch me with disdain.
"This might be worse than I thought," I murmured to myself, willing the memories of my family to flood my mind. I could hear their laughter, the warmth of our cramped living room, the smell of my mother's cooking wafting through the air.
"Don't nod when I'm talking to you," he snapped, breaking me from my thoughts. "You reply with 'yes, boss' from now on. You will be my maid for disrupting my bachelor's life. I hate you, and I will make sure you see hell before you die."
His words slashed through me like a blade, and I struggled to suppress the tears. What had I done to deserve this? "Failure to follow any of my rules," he continued relentlessly, "means you'll spend a day standing on ice. Now get out of my way, slut." As he shoved me to the floor, I crumpled under his harsh words, feeling the cool marble beneath me.
Tears streamed down uncontrollably. How would I cope in this house? Just his voice alone ignited a firestorm of dread within me. I didn't ask for this life, but I had to stay strong—for Mum, Dad, and for Lily. Yes, I would endure this; I had no other choice.
TBC
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Peace Out 💕
✌️✌️✌️
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